Happy Freaking New Year!
by BFangz
Summary: Christmas has passed.  Holiday depression is running wild.  Sacramento or the CBI team are not immune.  Sort of a follow up to "Merry Bleeping Christmas"
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Christmas has passed. Holiday depression is running wild. Sacramento or the CBI team are not immune.**

Happy Freaking New Year!

Lisbon's Day

Sunny California – wasn't. It was cold, windy and if it wasn't in the forties, you'd think it could dump a blizzard on you in a minute. Teresa waved at the half asleep CBI guard and flashed her ID, though he knew her well.

"Morning, Miss Lisbon. What are you doing in the office on New Year's Day? Don't they ever let you take a day off."

"It's not a problem, Ryan It's not like I have family in the area. I'm just going to catch up on some admin stuff, then bag it for the day. Who knows? Maybe a good book and a hot toddy before bed!" She smiled and headed up to her office, the guards eyes followed her, making it obvious he'd not mind being there with her. He shook his head and returned to his book.

Entering the office, she paused and closed her eyes, allowing the feel of the place to seep into her. Somehow, it felt like home. A bit cold and bleak, but home. Removing her coat, she hung it on the entrance coat rack and headed to her office. Her slow, deliberate pace was indicative of her lack of enthusiasm for the coming chores. The dim light, while moderately depressing, was calming and she felt some of the tension in her neck and shoulders relax. She rolled her shoulders and drew them back, pulling the muscles in a comfortable, almost painful, stretch.

Before going into her office, she walked over to the large window, overlooking the street, and gazed out. It looked as bleak and chill as she felt. She wrinkled her nose. "Bleh," she silently mouthed. Silently, she turned and went into her office and faced the mountain of forms that has accumulated in her in-box. Removing the first one, she opened it.

A case that Cho had the lead on. It had been wrapped up quickly and neatly. Jane, in his normal irritating fashion, had managed to agitate the prime suspect to get punched. Cho had stepped in, arrested the man for assault, and in the following interrogation, had exacted the easiest confession yet. Case solved. Solving the case: Wonderful. Seeing Jane get punched: Priceless!

She grimaced, signing the final report. "I really shouldn't be so hard on him. He really did contribute to the solution of the case." She smiled. "Even if he didn't mean to."

The next case featured Rigsby and Jane. This time, Jane had insulted a county commissioner, and it had not taken long before she'd received a very irate phone call from the districts representative. Fortunately, by that time, the commissioner had been arrested and charged with the crime. When the 'good' representative had been informed of that fact, his ire quickly evaporated and the team was getting congratulations on doing such a fine job. "Two faced bastard," Teresa muttered. "Jane dodged that bullet."

As she worked through the pile of cases, it was amazing how many had Jane insulting, irritating, angering, or just pure pissing off, so many people. Luckily, CBI had not been sued for over a month, but each lawsuit was a nuisance and an expense. She shook her head wondering, "Is he worth it?"

She scanned to the end of a particularly nasty case involving child molestation; a crime everyone is disgusted by and hates. Van Pelt's hand written note at the end: "Without Jane, this pervert would have walked!" caught her eye. Teresa signed it, threw it in the completed stack, leaned back and thought, "He's worth it."

She looked at the completed pile and smiled. She'd gotten a lot done. Reaching into the bottom drawer of her desk, she fumbled around and extracted a bottle of scotch. "Not as good as the one I gave Jane," she mused, "but not bad at all. It was s smooth 12 year old. She didn't bother with a glass, just took a decent pull from the bottle. She grinned and wiped her mouth, breathing very carefully. "No one around to disapprove!" A second quickly followed the first sip.

The warmth of the liquor was seducing and she put her head down on the desk, on the few remaining cases to review and sign off off on, and drifted into a dreamless slumber.

oOo

Lisbon opened her eyes. It was dark and she wasn't sure where she was or what had awakened her. Sitting up, she realized she was in her office and then she remembered, but what had awakened her? She was very tense and hyper alert.

Good cops, ones that survive, develop an instinct and awareness far beyond normal. She wished she'd turned the lights on, when she'd come in, but she'd not planned on falling asleep till past dark. Her mind flicked back to the massacre on the floor above and she wondered if someone, she didn't even want to think the name, "Red John", was stalking her. Since the last incident, everyone knew it was possible. Not even cops were safe in the office.

She, as silently as possible, slid the tip right hand drawer of her desk open, and grasped her 9mm service auto. "I'm being silly," she thought. "But better silly than dead." She stood and approached her office door, where she was partially shielded by the door. The creaking of the bull pen door opening was very loud in the stillness of the office to her.

Her mind racing, she told herself that anyone who belonged here would turn on or show a light, even if it was just Ryan checking the office. She heard slow, deliberate foot steps, but there was no light. Her eyes were well adjusted to the dark, so she carefully looked into the bull pen area, keeping most of her body behind the door. She could see a shadowy form that seemed to be slowly making it's way across the area. Her muscles tensed, and her breathing accelerated. Only the years of training allowed her hands, the hands she raised the 9mm with, to remain steady and true, aimed at the figure.

"Freeze," she hissed. "Do not move, or I _will_ shoot you!"

oOOo

**Now you all know that reviews and comments are welcome. DO take the few moments to post one. Without feedback, how can anyone know if what they are doing is working?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:No, Jane is not a morning person, but this is ridiculous!**

Happy Freaking New Year!  
Patrick's Day

Patrick pried open one eye and looked up at the wall. He squinted, but the red face was not there. Oh, that was it! He'd been using the apartment all week, because though many had the week off, criminals never took a break and CBI was on call. He stretched and sat up, shivering. It was cold. He fumbled his way across the room and turned on the space heater. The glow of the coils was the brightest thing in the room.

The day looked like crap and he felt worse than the way the day looked. At least the team had New Year's Eve off, though technically they were on call. He checked his cell phone. The fallout from the last time he'd missed a call had not been happy. He may have caused anther's death by not being where he should have been, when he should have been. Nothing Hightower or Lisbon could say could be worse than knowing that. He stared out the window, looking at the bleak landscape. "How many death's on my head," he wondered. "How many?"

He found the bottle of brandy that he'd shared his evening with, and surprisingly, there was still a little left. "Oh, thank heavens," he thought. "My head is killing me. This should help it ease off." He turned the bottle up and drained that final ounce or so. "Ah," he sighed, wiping his mouth. "Much better."

He looked at the clock and it was past noon. "No wonder I feel so bad. Whenever I sleep in this late, I wake up feeling like I've been freeze dried. I really should know better." Sadly, should have known better did not improve how he felt or his mood.

The tea he'd brewed for himself scalded his lip, leaving a sore spot on it and he cut himself shaving. Staring into the mirror, he glared at the face there. "Why do you bother," he asked. "Why did you even get out of bed. At least your were warm and reasonably comfortable." The face in the mirror did not enlighten him. It simply stared back, mute. "Murdering bastard," he hissed at the reflection. The reflection said, "Murdering bastard," back at him. He realized that he was gripping the sink hard enough to hurt his hands. Releasing the edge of the sink, he slowly straightened and returned to the kitchen where the cooling tea was less hostile.

The tea was drinkable. "Three minutes is too long in the microwave for tea," he muttered. "Remember that, Jane. Three, too long!" He'd turned a radio, a local talk station, KGO, and was waiting for the news. The news at the top of the hour and on the half hour. Some of the shows were good. The Dr. Dean Edell show, especially, but the holiday schedule had surely preempted the normal one o'clock time slot. He glanced at the clock, not that it was anywhere near one. It was almost four and the sun would be setting soon.

At four, the news and weather did come on. Forecast were wind gusts up to 65 miles per hour and temperatures falling almost to freezing. "Oh, you have to love sunny California," he observed, his disposition turning even more sour. A lot of the bridges were closing to truck traffic, and even though it was a holiday, well for a lot of people, the traffic reports were grim. He raised his cup of tea. "Happy Freaking New Year," he growled to no one in particular. "I bet it's going to be another happy, freaking new year. How can we miss?" He turned the tea cup up and drained the last drop.

oOo

The wind whipped at his back, almost driving him forward. The goal had been simple: go out, get some milk and return. That should not be difficult, but when does life ever work out as it should? Once outside, the shock of the cold air had actually made him briefly forget how miserable he was, and he found it invigorating. He decided that something alcoholic should be on the list of things to buy, as well, making the extra distance to his favorite liquor store worth the effort. What he had not realized was the effect of the wind chill factor. Within the first two blocks, his face was burning and his ears felt as if they were going to fall off.

Two more blocks, and he was hit by a 50 miles per hour gust of wind that nearly knocked him forward. "A man could die, out here," briefly crossed his mind. He was dressed in CBI sweats and an overcoat that he'd thought was incredibly warm. Maybe in a breeze less than gale force it would be warm, but the wind was cutting through it, and it felt as if he were naked.

He kept going, mainly because he didn't want to have to walk INTO that vicious wind! He finally staggered into the liquor store, being more than a little grateful it was open. "Oh, Mr. Jane, hello," the shop keeper greeted him. "You're lucky you got here when you did. I was just getting ready to close." He grinned. "The Mrs. and I are going to party two night." He made tonight sound like two words, exaggerating the syllables.

Jane leaned against the closed door, catching his breath and rubbing his painful ears. "I sure hope your party spot is warm," he finally managed. "You won't believe what if feels like out there."

"I hear you, Mr. Jane! Now, what's your pleasure, this evening?"

Patrick hesitated and then said, "How about some Courvoisier XO Imperial?"

"Can't go wrong with XO." He looked at Patrick. "Do you want me to call a cab for you? I don't think you want to be walking much further out there."

"No, I really don't want to be walking out there, but the office is right across the street, and I can dip in and thaw out." Patrick smiled. "The XO will help that process."

Entering CBI, he saw that the night guard was not at station. "Must be on rounds," Jane thought. Typically, he failed to swipe his card, getting a brief glow of satisfaction at "beating" the system, one more time. He took the stairs to the office, where he realized that only the dim standing lights were on. The bright lights of the lobby had dimmed his night vision, so he paused waiting for his eyes to adjust. The vision of a hot cup of tea, with a little brandy on the side, formed in his mind, and he grinned, slowly making his way towards the coffee area, where he kept his tea and nice thick mug.

He was almost there when he heard the stark command: "Freeze! Do not move, or I _will_ shoot you!"

oOOo

**A/N: Some days, you just can't win for losing.  
I love the reviews! Thanks to all who have replied and noted this story. I try to respond by rapidly updating. Turnabout is fair play.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sometimes you just do what you're told to do!**

Happy Freaking New Year!  
Their Evening

Patrick froze and slowly raised his hand, tightly gripping the Courvoisier. His mind racing, he realized it had to be Lisbon. "Oh, I do hope she's in a good mood," went through his mind. "Getting shot hurts."

The "freeze" command was quickly followed by, "Whatever, you're holding drop it. Now!"

"She's not in a good mood," he thought. "Ah, Lisbon, you can shoot me, but I'm not dropping a bottle of Courvoisier XO!"

"Jane?" The question and doubt in her voice was obvious. "Real slow, turn around." He started turning. "Easy, now," she said. "Too fast and I will slow you down." The threat was clear.

Very slowly, he turned till he was facing her. She'd moved to where she could reach the light switch. As he faced her, she turned the lights on, blinding him. He squinted trying to protect his eyes.

"OK," she said. "Very carefully, set the bottle on the counter, behind you, and stop awaaaaay from the bottle." She extended the word away in a parody of the phrase. "Keep your hands up."

Staring down the barrel of a gun, he was not inclined to disobey, so he did as told. "Lisbon, this is not funny. I know that damn gun of yours is loaded, and I am not amused."

"That's funny," she retorted. "I am." She grinned. "When I recognized your voice, I put the safety on. You're not really in any danger." The smile faded. "From the gun!"

He lowered his hands, relief showing in his face.

"Hold it! I did not say you could put your hands down." He heard the "snick" of a safety being released.

His hand shot back up. "Lisbon. Really. This is not funny. One of us, could get hurt."

"And I wonder which one of us that would be." Her grin was that of an evil pixie!

Jane looked at her and felt an overwhelming affection for the feisty little Lisbon. "OK, he," he offered. "I could get hurt. May I _please_ put my hands down now?" He started lowering his hands.

"Hey!" She flicked the barrel of the gun. His hands shot back up. "Under one condition."

He sighed. "What's the condition, Lisbon?"

She smiled and holstered her pistol. "You have to share that Courvoisier. You know much I love that. It would be cruel and unusual punishment if you brought it around me, and did not share. We wouldn't want that, now would we?"

oOo

Patrick took a sip of the warming tea and smiled. "I really needed that. If I'd gotten any more chilled, you shooting me would have been a relief."

Lisbon shook her head. "I don't see how you can sip tea and brandy."

"Oh, look who's being my holier than thou! I've seen you put rum in coffee. Now, that is gross!"

"Not if it's a good dark rum," Lisbon retorted. "Then the flavors compliment each other."

"You Irish. You'll drink anything, won't you?"

Lisbon shrugged and took a small sip of the brandy. They only had coffee mugs from the coffee area, and Jane had poured her a more than generous portion. "You went out, walking, in this weather to get a bottle of brandy?"

He shook his head. "Not exactly. The original idea was milk at the corner store, then the walking felt good, so I thought a nice walk to the liquor store would be a good idea. That's before the wind started and I realized how cold it really was. By then I was over half way there and the wind was at my back. There was no way I was going to walk into that wind!"

"So, when you got there you decided to stock up an antifreeze?"

"It seemed like a good idea, at the time. If he hadn't been closing early, I might still be there, but since I was right across the street, I figured it wouldn't hurt to drop in and have some nice warm tea and thaw out."

"Patrick, don't go down that road. I don't want someone else I care for hurting themselves that way. You really don't need that."

He didn't even to bother to pretend he didn't know what she was talking about. He sighed. "It's really not often, Teresa. Holidays, mostly. That's when I feel it the most. Especially Christmas and New Year's."

She put her hand over his. "Think there's room on your couch for both of us?"

He nodded. "I'm sure we can make do. It's a lot more comfortable than these wooden conference table chairs."

They'd pulled a small table near the couch, on which the bottle and their mugs rested. Teresa had sat in the corner of the couch, slouched down, leaning against the high arm and the back. Jane, taking advantage of the situation and flopped onto the couch, and lay down, his head in her lap.

Her eyes widened. "Comfortable?" He tone was only slightly challenging.

Patrick smiled. "If you don't hurt me, I will be."

Lisbon sighed and rubbed his hair. "No, I don't think I need to hurt you. You do fairly well on that score for yourself. I think you may be your own worst enemy."

Jane bit back the all too obvious retort he started to make and grimaced. "Maybe second worst?"

Lisbon shook her head. "Where do you want this to go, Patrick? Suppose you catch and kill Red John, what then? What do you want then?"

The pain literally clouded his eyes. "Then I want my family back." He closed his eyes very tight. "Then I want my family back and I want it the way it was." He paused. "Before I screwed up." Before she could speak, he sat up and finished the remainder of the brandy that was in his cup. "Do you want me to freshen yours?" He splashed some more into his cup.

"Do you really think that's the answer?" Lisbon looked sad.

"No, not really, but it sure makes the question more bearable."

They were facing each other, separated by mere inches. "There are a lot of questions in life," Teresa said. Her soft, brandy scented breath tickling his cheek. He leaned forward and touched his lips to her's. Not really a kiss, just a light touch.

Her lips parted and her sharp little tongue flicked his lips as she pressed firmly against him. Putting his arms around her and opening his mouth to return the kiss was an automatic response. Their breathing was the only sound in the room.

Finally breaking the very pleasant contact, both of them leaned back, taking long deep breaths.

They turned their heads and stared into each others eyes. "Now that asks a totally different question, doesn't it," she asked softly.

He gave a tiny smile. "That it does, and here's the answer." He leaned forward and kissed her again.

oOOOo

A/N: I've been asked to continue this story. There will be at least one more chapter...  
Thanks to all who have reviewed and commented


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **_Because you asked ,Donnamour1969!_

**Happy Freaking New Year!**_  
_The morning after the night before

It was New Year's Day and she could sleep in. She snuggled down to enjoy some extra winks. Slowly but surely it seeped into her consciousness. It was the smell of freshly brewed coffee. She opened one eye and was totally disoriented. That was not her ceiling. She jerked awake and realized that she was in the office, and that she was on Jane's couch. In fact Jane was facing her, smiling, and wafting the aroma of coffee her way.

She sat up, confused, but game. "Gimme," she said reaching for the coffee. That first sip was heaven. She saw the bottle of Courvoisier on the table and it all came rushing back to her. She stared at it and realized it was over three quarters full. She smiled. "We hardly touched it."

He saw her direction of sight, read her body language and responded correctly, "We hardly touched it."

Lisbon nodded. "That is true. As I recall, you were busy touching something else." Watching Patrick, she thought, "This is priceless!" He almost instantly turned beet red, totally out of character for him, and appeared to be at a loss for words."

"Are you OK, Patrick?" The concern in her voice was very real. This was not like him, at all.

"Thank you, Teresa," he said with a crooked grin, apparently totally back to normal." He hesitated. "OK, no games." His smile was shaky. "That was the first time since..." His voice trailed off and he got a far away look in he eyes.

"Ah, what about..." Teresa started but Patrick quickly interrupted.

"No. Just a few dates. I couldn't. Not then. Not with her." He reached for the bottle of Courvoisier but Teresa smacked his hands.

"Tea, coffee or nothing!"

He smiled but did not continue. "Shouldn't that be, 'Coffee, tea or me,'?"

This time, Teresa turned bright red, but she didn't look away. "If that's what it takes."

Patrick's smile faded. He sat down next to her and they locked eyes. He sighed. "This is really uncomfortable," he said.

Lisbon arched one eyebrow. "Why is that," she asked, her face serious.

Patrick chewed his lower lip, briefly. "Because when I care for someone they get hurt. " He paused. "When I care for someone, they are taken from me, leave me or turn on me."

"Do you think I'll do that?" He voice was choked.

Staring at her, he shook his head. "No. Not on purpose. I trust you more than I trust anyone, I guess." He smiled. "Then the team, I guess. They are good people."

Lisbon nodded. "The best."

Patrick continued, "Have I lost that? Did I lose that last night?" He took a deep breath. "I don't know what to expect."

Lisbon thought for a moment, then nodded. "No, we have lost nothing and what we had has not changed. We've added something."

"They suspect, you know." Patrick said.

"Yes, but suspecting and knowing are two different thing. We can never let them know, OK?"

"That's fine by me," Patrick said. "Can you imagine Rigsby?"

"I shudder," Teresa said. They sat silently, each seemingly lost in thought.

"I have the feeling that life just got more complicated," Patrick observed. "I'm not sure …."

"I'm rarely sure about something like this," Teresa admitted. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not a virgin, but... "

"I know what you mean," he said interrupting her. "So what do we do? Do we pretend this never happened?"

Teresa actually gasped. "Don't you dare! It did happen and we both wanted it to happen. We never pretend it didn't happen. It did." Her grin was sly. "We just don't tell."

Patrick chuckled. "I'm glad you said that. I really wasn't sure if I'd taken advantage or not.

"Oh," she said, "you took advantage, all right." She leaned forward and nipped his ear and gently blew into it. "Just like I'm taking advantage, now," she whispered.

Patrick shivered, a delicious chill coursing through his body like electricity. He slid his hand under her sweater and located the bra strap. With a deft flick, he loosened the clasp. "You will keep putting that thing on, won't you?"

She smiled and performed Patrick's favorite magic trick. She made her sweater vanish. She carefully removed the bra and gently folded it and placed in on the table. She grinned. "That thing was expensive." She took his hand and pressed them to the warm flesh of her breasts. "Now, you were saying?"

"Ah, I was about to say that we should get a room, but I guess the couch will have to do."

Lisbon smiled and stretched out, pulling him onto her body. "You still have all of these silly clothes on," she commented.

He realize that, somehow, she was naked. "How did you do that?" He smiled, fully enjoying the sight of her nude form. He shook his head. "Not even in my imagination," he whispered, caressing her, making her squirm a little.

"If you don't hurry, I'm going to have to hurt you, Jane."

Patrick performed his own magic trick and made his clothing vanish, also. Lying full length, next to her, the heat of her body excited him in ways he'd long forgotten. It was good to lie next to a warm, willing woman, knowing that the desire was mutual, as would be the satisfaction.

"Here," she said, putting her leg over his. "Like this."

oOo

Monday, January, 3, 2011, the calendar on the CBI bull pen wall read. "Well troops, we lived through another one. Let's stay on this roll," Lisbon said loudly to the group. She looked around and focused on Jane's couch. "Is he tardy, again?" She shook her head. "I don't know what I'm going to do with that man!"

No one saw the smile she had as she returned to her office, remembering what she already had done with "that man."

oOOOo  
The End!


End file.
